


Fragile and Composed

by cgf_kat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Human Jack Kline, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 14, Supportive Dean Winchester, Supportive Sam Winchester, Team Free Will 2.0 (Supernatural), Team Free Will 2.0 is a family, Whump, whump without much plot, witches causing problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-24 13:42:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30073128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cgf_kat/pseuds/cgf_kat
Summary: “What did Rowena say?” he asks. “You called her, right? This isn’t like one of those attack dog spells of hers, is it?”That’s the last time Dean can remember seeing Cas actually sweat like this. Usually, he’s immune to such human inconveniences, but as of right now his dark hair is plastered to his forehead, moisture prickling his skin. It’s disconcerting. Wrong.“No, no not like that,” Cas rasps. He lets his head tip back, compliant as Dean gently thumbs at the skin around his eyes to pull them open farther, to get a better look at them. To confirm they’re not bloodshot and bleeding like they were then. “It’s—there are no other effects...not...nothing’s in my head. It’s just...very painful.”
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline, Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some Cas hurt/comfort and Dean taking care of him, and Jack also in the mix being worried, and them being worried about Jack as well/how it's all affecting him too. And anyway please let me know what you think, I would be very grateful haha. 
> 
> I'm not sure how Dean/Cas this is or isn't going to get. Gonna see how it goes, though it does seem to already be heading that kinda way, doesn't it? XD. I'm also open to suggestions for things ya'll are wanting to see here in your Dean & Cas H/C.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (And yes, Hurricane by Tommee Profitt and Fleurie is one of my favorite Destiel songs at the moment. XD)

“Right there,” Sam says. His hand bounces off of Dean’s arm and then points up quickly out the windshield at the weather-worn billboard coming up on their right. “Jack, it’s okay. We’re right here,” he says into his phone.

Dean glares at the faded bacon and eggs emblazoned across the old diner ad, as if he could will them to be there under different circumstances. Circumstances where he could be excited about it and maybe planning to see if the place still exists in town. Circumstances where he could be looking forward to the bacon and not...what they’re doing.

Gravel flies as he pulls off the road, swinging around behind the billboard and searching between the trees for Cas’s truck. He doesn’t have to look far, but his heart is already pounding in his throat.

_Dean, I need help! Cas is—he’s hurt, and I can’t drive us home, I don’t know how to drive, I—what do I do? What—_

He was looking for another excuse to get out of the bunker after the case at the comic shop, something else to distract him from whatever the hell Michael might be up to out there, but Jack’s panicked call wasn’t what he had in mind. 

Sam jerks in his seat from the sudden stop of the car, but he doesn’t snap about it like he usually might. He glances over as he reaches for the door handle, but he doesn’t say anything as they climb out of the Impala.

Dean is already moving quickly, purposefully, but he kicks it up to a run when a muffled shout comes from inside the truck. 

“Cas!” 

He was headed for the driver’s side, but the familiar back of a dark-haired head glimpsed through the back window makes him change course, snagging the edge of the tailgate to propel himself around to the other door. He yanks it open and ends up with an armful of angel. It takes leaning in and pushing him back to keep Cas from toppling out on top of him. Dean vaguely registers that Cas was leaning against the door and opening it without warning like that wasn’t exactly the smartest move. 

“Whoa! Hey, Cas?”

No one is in danger of falling out onto the gravel any longer, but Dean is still clinging to his arms. He can feel Cas shivering, and that is never a good sign. Not for a human either, but certainly not for an angel. 

“Dean…” 

Neither is it good that Cas sounds out of breath.

The other door squeaks open, and Sam is on the other side of the truck listening to Jack tell them again what he’d told them on the phone. 

“But you’re okay?” Sam asks.

“I’m fine, but the witch—“

Dean tries to tune it out, focusing on Cas.

“What did Rowena say?” he asks. “You called her, right? This isn’t like one of those attack dog spells of hers, is it?” 

That’s the last time Dean can remember seeing Cas actually sweat like this. Usually, he’s immune to such human inconveniences, but as of right now his dark hair is plastered to his forehead, moisture prickling his skin. It’s disconcerting. Wrong.

“No, no not like that,” Cas rasps. He lets his head tip back, compliant as Dean gently thumbs at the skin around his eyes to pull them open farther, to get a better look at them. To confirm they’re not bloodshot and bleeding like they were then. “It’s—there are no other effects...not...nothing’s in my head. It’s just...very painful.”

As if to punctuate what he’s saying Cas crumples forward into Dean’s shoulder with something like a whining groan. 

“Son of a—!” Dean catches him, barely avoiding letting him fall from the truck again. 

Fingers are digging into his arms and he’s pretty sure Cas doesn’t know how hard he’s squeezing, because he’s fairly certain he’s going to have bruises there later, even through about four layers of clothing. General angel strength still in place despite the spell then, check. 

Jack looks back from filling Sam in, reaching out involuntarily to grab at Cas’s coat even though he must know he can’t do anything, and the kid looks like hell. Hair everywhere, split lip and a scratch across his forehead probably from tangling with the witch that did this. None of that would be so bad if it weren’t for the look on his face. It’s been less than three hours since the call that got Dean and Sam here, but he looks exhausted. Worried. Angry that he can’t help. 

Cas is gasping into Dean’s shoulder, every exhale a shuddering cry of pain, and Dean is frozen. He can’t help, either, and he knows it.

If this is what Jack has been dealing with since he called...

“It comes and goes,” Jack says with a grimace. “Rowena said she’d meet us at the bunker. She thinks it’ll wear off on its own, but she’ll see if she can fix it faster. Or something. We should go, she’ll be there soon I think. He needs help.”

Dean is already nodding. Cas is calming again, leaning back with a groan. Dean tries not to react when those fingers release his arms. He can practically feel the bruises forming. A small squeak escapes his lips and Cas peers at him tiredly as he catches his breath. Something like embarrassment starts to settle over his features, but Dean quickly shakes his head just enough for it to be noticeable.

Not Cas’s fault. Nothing he should worry about. 

Sam swallows and squeezes Jack’s shoulder. “How’d you get out here?”

Jack makes a face. “I uh...sort of drove. A little. I am...not good at it.”

Cas clears his throat before trying to say anything. “Nonsense. You did very well for a first attempt. Especially under the circumstances. ” He lets out a heavy breath and glances back to Dean. “We needed to be somewhere we wouldn’t attract attention while we waited for you.”

Now Dean winces, remembering the shout they’d heard when they first pulled up. That was even worse than the horrible but quieter cries from just now, and his heart pounds a little faster again just remembering it. “Yeah.”

He’s still sort of holding onto Cas. Bracing him. That’s all. Just making sure he’s not gonna try to go falling out of the truck again. 

Cas is looking at him again. Trying to communicate something. His eyes keeping flicking over to Jack and then to the Impala and Sam. Dean blinks, staring back at him until his brain catches up and he’s looking at Jack again, taking in one more time how awful he looks and...yeah.

“You’re right, Jack. We’ll get moving. I’ll drive the truck back with Cas; why don’t you go keep Sam company in the car? Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep.”

Sam gives him a look, but it only lasts a moment before he seems to get it too and starts nodding. “I had a long night on the books. I could use the company.”

“I…” Jack glances back at Cas, who gives him an encouraging nod. “Okay.”

Dean sighs as Sam finally gets Jack away from the truck, reluctant to move to go around to the driver’s side just yet. 

“You sure this is gonna take care of itself? Rowena didn’t say anything to you she didn’t say to the kid, did she?”

Cas shakes his head, pinching at the bridge of his nose as if that might do something. He’s not actively doubled over or anything like he was a few moments ago—apparently, like Jack said, that comes and goes—but Dean can’t tell if he’s actually...not hurting right now. If it’s actually gone for the moment, or just less.

He doubts if Cas would tell him.

“No,” Cas says. “She was confident that I should be all right. Or at least that it’s more than likely, since I’m not human. It’s only whether she’ll be able to resolve the issue more quickly that’s in question.”

Something tight in Dean’s chest eases, at least a little. Something that wound itself up the moment Jack said Cas was hurt. 

“Okay,” he sighs. “What about the witch?”

“Dead,” Cas confirms. 

“Good,” Dean says quickly. “Either that or it’s gonna come back to bite us in the ass, but that’d just be another day for us.” 

He gets a weak chuckle from Cas for his joke. Not that it’s really a joke, because he’s right.

He starts to steps away, go around to get in to drive, but he frowns at Cas’s hands trembling in his lap. It’s just...not right. Cas like this. It’s never right. 

He swears. “Kind of wish we had one more person to drive the truck, so I could just…”

A corner of Cas’s mouth quirks up, distracting him from finishing that sentence. “Hold my hand?”

Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “Keep an eye on you,” he corrects. “Shut up.”

Cas is obviously very tired. 

He goes around and gets behind the wheel, waving at Sam to go as he pulls the door closed. When he looks across the cab Cas is hunched against the opposite door, eyes clenched shut.

Dean swallows. “Hey, man, really though...if you need to grab onto anything…”

Cas nods against the window, his eyes slipping open briefly to meet Dean’s, to acknowledge the implied offer with something warm that passes through his gaze.

It doesn’t take long to become more than implied. Ten minutes into the drive Cas keels over again, and Dean’s every instinct is to pull over but he knows it won’t do any good. His chest aches, but at least reaching out is something. It’s not nothing. He needs a hand on the wheel but he can give Cas the other. He can do that. 

He finds himself holding onto Cas’s coat the way Jack was, until Cas realizes he’s there. Until a sweaty hand grasps his forearm. Dean squeezes back, and at some point in the trip, Cas turns around to lean into his shoulder instead of the window. He doesn’t know when, and it doesn’t matter. 


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you mean you can’t do anything?”

Rowena is already gathering her gear from the infirmary table she’d set up near one of the cots, and this is very much not what Dean had been hoping for. He jumps to his feet from the edge of the small bed, willing her to give him a different answer. 

“Exactly what I said,” she sighs. “The witch who cast this spell may not have been on the most powerful end of the spectrum, but she was, unfortunately, clever. Without her alive, I’m afraid I have no way to counteract it.”

Behind him, Cas is sitting up slowly on the bed. When Dean glances back Jack, on the far side of it, looks more than a little upset. 

“I knew it. We should have—”

“Jack,” Cas interrupts. “We did the right thing. She was killing people.”

“But what about you?”

Dean lowers his voice, leaning closer to Rowena. He knows Cas will probably still be able to hear him with those angel senses of his, but at least Jack won’t. Not now that he’s basically human. “You can’t...help with the pain or anything? Like at all?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “That is the entire point of the spell, Dean. Well...almost. I’m relatively certain the object of the spell is to kill whatever human it’s aimed at in slow, horrible agony, but thankfully our boy there is made of sterner stuff.” 

“So you’re saying if I were human I would be dead?” Cas asks. He did hear, then. Of course. He’s leaned over his knees, arms resting there as he peers up at them with tired eyes.

Rowena leans around Dean. “Quite. Or well on the way there.”

Cas nods, looking pointedly over his shoulder at Jack. “Then it’s good that it was me.”

Jack makes a face, but he doesn’t protest again, sinking onto the cot himself. Cas takes the opportunity to reach out, to squeeze the boy’s shoulder. 

Rowena glides over while Cas is distracted. She pats his cheek affectionately before he can notice her. She gets a disgruntled look for it but just smiles right back. “Believe me, dear, I’m certainly glad that angel constitution of yours kept you alive long enough for the boys to force me to undo that attack dog spell back in the day.” 

“Back in the day?” Dean snorts. “That was all of three years ago. You only stopped trying to kill us occasionally _last_ year.”

“Well, that’s neither here nor there…”

Cas huffs out something like a chuckle. “Thank you for trying, Rowena.”

“How long do you think it’ll take? For it to wear off?” Dean asks.

Rowena shrugs as she goes back to cleaning up her things. “There’s no way to know, really. Hours, days…and I dare say it may get worse before it improves. I’m sorry I can’t say more.”

“Great…” Dean lowers himself back to the edge of the cot, not sure what to do with himself now. The springs under the thin infirmary mattress squeak and dip deep under the weight of a third grown person, and Cas tips into his shoulder, unbalanced.

“Dean, perhaps that’s not—”

He gets back up. “Yeah, sorry, uh…” 

He twists around to study Cas and Jack, grimacing at the heavy bags under Jack’s eyes and the way Cas’s fingers are starting to grip tighter around the edge of the bed frame. It’s getting worse again. Or will soon.

“Jack, you should get some sleep,” Dean says. “How long have you been up on that case? And now this?”

Jack blinks up at him, bleary-eyed. “I uhm...I’m not sure. But...Castiel…”

“Will be fine,” Cas answers gently. “In time. You should rest.”

For a long moment, it looks like there might be more protest, but Jack’s shoulders are already sagging at the reminder of sleep. “If I can do anything…”

“We know where to find you,” Dean says.

He still seems reluctant to leave, but he goes, feet dragging on the steps up and out of the infirmary. When he looks back from the door, Cas gives him a reassuring smile from his perch on the cot to get him out the door. Rowena takes her things and goes not long after.

The infirmary seems much larger once they’re alone, Cas’s heavy breaths echoing in the empty air. Dean sinks back to the small mattress, glaring pointlessly at the cold white walls as if they’re the reason someone he cares about is in pain. All he can do while it worsens is the same he could do on the awful drive here—provide the needed resistance to hold up the warm weight that presses into his shoulder, and little more.

The waves seem to vary in proverbial height, and this one doesn’t seem as bad as some. Cas’s groans sound more frustrated than anything. One in particular even sounds like words. 

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “Great friggin streak we’ve got goin’ huh?” 

He gets a snort in answer. 

“What do you want to do?” he asks, once Cas has somewhat settled again. “I’m sure you don’t want to stay in here.”

“Nowhere else to go,” Cas mumbles, scrubbing at his face.

“What?”

Above them, the infirmary door creaks open before Dean can get a response to that. It’s Sam, who’s been keeping the other hunters in the bunker distracted since they got back. He comes down the steps wearing that patented Sam Winchester sympathy face. 

“Hey,” he says. “Cas, I’m sorry…

Jack or Rowena herself must have told him what she’d found.

Cas shrugs. “I will live.”

“Yeah, thank god...still uh...still sucks though.”

“I am aware.”

At least they all get a sensible chuckle out of that.

“What are you talking about there’s nowhere else to go?” Dean asks. “We can take you to your room or…” Both Sam and Cas are shaking their heads at him. “What?”

Sam winces, apologetic. “He doesn’t have one. Not since the apocalypse world people came over. He gave it up.”

“It didn’t seem necessary seeing as I don’t sleep and there were others who could use it.”

Dean climbs to his feet, throwing his hands up. “Great. Had to be all altruistic didn’t you?” He takes Cas’s arm, starting to haul him up anyway. “Come one, you’re still not staying here. This place sucks.”

“Dean…”

“You can camp out in my room for now. You heard Rowena; might just be a few more hours anyway.”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Somehow I highly doubt that will be the case.”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Dean—” Cas is being stubborn, unmoving and trying to drag him back down to the cot. 

“Shut up. No buts. Sam, give me a hand here?” 

Sam does move as if he’s going to, but Cas chooses that moment to finally start holding most of his own weight. 

“I can walk,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes. 

Dean grins triumphantly at Sam, who’s already shaking his head at both of them. 

“You got it, then?” Sam asks. He’s still sort of half holding out an arm as if he’s not sure if they want help.

Dean takes a step or two and Cas comes with him willingly, mostly under his own steam. Dean keeps his arm over his shoulder anyway though, just in case. “We got it, Chief. Go write lesson plans or something.”

“I’m already two weeks ahead.”

“Nerd.”

***

“Are you sure about this, Dean? What if this takes much longer than we expect?”

“I sure as hell hope not, for your sake. But if it does we’ll figure it out, okay? I’m not leaving you to deal with this stuck in that damn hospital knockoff.”

There’s quiet from beside him at that. At first, Dean thinks Cas has just run out of ways to protest, but when he finally glances over instead of the disgruntled look he expects he gets an eyeful of that face Cas makes when he’s getting sappy. 

“Cas, I swear to—”

“Thank you, Dean.”

He lets out a breath. “Thank me when you’re better.”

After that, more quiet. But at least it’s comfortable. 

For a while.

Until the moment just short of Dean’s bedroom door when Cas collapses.

Dean swears under the abrupt shout in his ear, staggering under the sudden addition of weight as Cas goes boneless. 

“No no, come on—”

They go down against the wall, so close to their goal and yet so far. He can already hear footsteps. People coming to see what’s wrong. People he doesn’t really know and Cas can’t know much better...people who don’t need to see this. 

Cas folded on the floor screaming doesn’t seem like something that should be public. 

“Cas!”

Fingers fold into his shirt, squeezing and pulling at the fabric, and he thinks maybe Cas can still hear him, at least, but answering is beyond his capacity. 

“Dean!” Sam’s voice. Up the hall, around the corner. Sam, he could deal with right now, but he knows the other hunters won’t be far behind.

“Okay,” Dean huffs. “Come on, I’ve got you, let’s go.” 

He curses and does the only thing he can think to do, getting up and hauling Cas awkwardly over his shoulders. It’s only a few more steps to his room. He doesn’t make it much farther than just inside, but it’s enough to get the door closed behind them. That isn’t going to help much against the screams, but at least no one can stare. 

He tries to let him down easily, but if he had the energy to do that right now he would have made it all the way to the bed. They end up in a heap on the floor instead, and Cas is tense and shaking and still screaming and Dean doesn’t know what to do but grab him and hold on. 

God, maybe they should just get Cas the hell out of here...maybe he should be taking him somewhere. It wouldn’t matter if there weren’t so many other people in the bunker, but…

It got bad sometimes, on the way back to the bunker, but not quite like this. 

Pounding on the door, quick and urgent. “Dean! Cas?” Sam, his voice tight and worried.

“I’ve got it!” Dean calls. “I’ve got him.” What else could Sam do anyway?

But, mercifully, the shouting in his ears starts to die away. 

“Are you sure?” Sam asks through the door.

“I’m sure, I...let me handle this. Make sure Jack’s okay; the kid needs sleep.”

While Sam mutters something else on the other side of the door and eventually retreats, Cas is catching his breath. Dean pats his back, almost tentative now for some reason he can’t explain. 

“Hey,” he says, and has to pause to swallow after to unstick his throat. “Hey, are you…?

“Alive?” Cas groans. He’s still trembling, hands pressed into the cool floor as if to help ground himself. “Yes. All right? Not...not really.”

For a minute or two Dean just sits with him, trying not to remember that awful other spell and the floor of that warehouse. When he has to move or go crazy, he gets to his feet and offers a hand to help Cas up. It doesn’t have to get him all the way to his feet, really, just enough to get him to the bed. 

When Cas has the bed to lean into his reaches back, clumsily tugging at his trenchcoat. Dean takes the hint and helps him pull it off. He drapes it over a chair in the corner and makes it back just in time to snag the collar of his suit coat before he drops onto the mattress.

“Hold on, this too. You’ll thank me later.”

Cas grunts out something that isn’t necessarily a protest, rolling his shoulders to help Dean get the coat off. Dean tosses it at the chair and goes for the shoes, but Cas is ahead of him, toeing them off as he collapses on the bed.

“Dean…” Cas rumbles quietly. His eyes are closed, trusting Dean to listen. “When Jack wakes up. Don’t let him in here...please. Not if I’m...he’s been through enough.”

Dean sinks onto the foot of the bed, and Cas shifts his legs back to keep them from sliding off as the edge of the mattress dips. “That’s the plan.”

Cas’s eyes flicker open, catching his. “You don’t have to stay, either. I know this is...difficult.”

Dean looks back, unwavering. “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
